16A
by mintos013
Summary: AU: Chase Young's quest for immortality, mad science, and Jack. Implied CYxJS. Pairings otherwise canon. Warnings for gore and several character deaths.


**Disclaimer: **I do not own Xiaolin Showdown

**16A**

* * *

_Late December_

"There! Over there! Why is she so white?"

"It's an albino male, imbecile." Chase Young paused, unwilling to cross the empty street. His black sneakers crunched the thin layer of morning frost coating the dead grass beneath his feet. He considered himself a scientist, although really he was a grad student with far too much leverage at the university. It had only taken him five years to graduate, return, and to convince those with money that his cause was worth their generous investment and unquestioned support. His staff even referred to him as "doctor," as did many university personnel. He never corrected them.

Chase smirked down at the teenager standing beside him in the cold. Omi was an undergraduate who showed great promise, but the kid had been raised in a temple somewhere in the depths of China. He seemed to belong to another era. Still, Chase liked Omi well enough. If anything, his bald helper reminded him of home. When all of this was over Chase fully intended to return to China.

Omi was fuming at the insult. He was no imbecile! He was the best in his class; the chosen one! Or at least, he was the one chosen from his peers to work at Young's side. "Well, I would have known if I had seen an albino before," he grumbled.

"Sure. Of course, considering the fact that you've probably never even seen yourself nude, I shouldn't be surprised that you cannot tell the difference," said Chase.

Omi balled his fists. He'd always had small, feminine hands and he hated them. His entire frame was too delicate. "I am not stupid!" he insisted. "And of course I have seen myself naked. I see myself naked all the time!"

Omi pointed at the body lying ahead of them on the ground across the street. "I could have told if his back wasn't to us!"

"Omi, spare me the details._ Just go get him._" Chase checked his watch. The breeze numbed his high cheekbones and swept his dark hair back. Normally he would have restrained the long mess, but it was freezing out there and his thick hair provided at least some protection against the predawn's chill. The little silver second hand made another full circle and Chase grew impatient.

"Hurry, Omi. His landlord and fellow tenants will surely be stirring soon." Chase smiled. "And I don't think they'll all fit in the van."

There were just over a hundred people sleeping in that paper house of a building. Chase didn't need any of them. If even one became an issue, well… Apartment fires were common enough incidents, and Chase's driver was quite good at making them look like accidents.

Another circle was completed.

Omi shuffled, obviously cold and maybe even… was that nausea coloring his round face?

Chase Young did not care nor did he like to repeat himself. "What is it?" he snapped at his assistant.

Omi, who was a few inches shorter than Chase, looked up with a pout. "I don't want to touch him. He's in his birthday costume and filthy!"

Chase scanned the still body of Jack Spicer; the lone renter of apartment 16A. The youth was laid out on the large, stiff doormat like a corpse, complete with curled limbs and the grime that objects too close to the ground always seem to acquire if they are left undisturbed. Chase wondered how long the albino had been lying there.

"That's why you're wearing gloves. I have no idea why they left him naked. Perhaps they liked his designer clothes." Chase crossed his arms, the leather material of his overcoat creaking. He tapped his right fingers against an elbow. "Go and get him or we'll leave him and it will be your body getting turned inside out. He's probably frozen to death," Chase threatened.

"Okay, okay. No need to make a mole out of a mountain." Omi pulled on the blue gloves he wore to make sure they went almost to his shoulders as he marched across the quiet road and over the sidewalk to the front of the apartment complex. Here Jack Spicer slept, drugged and blissfully unaware.

Omi squatted by the stranger. Grimacing, he grabbed two handfuls of white flesh and rolled the unconscious youth over. Chase had said this kid was like Omi; a child prodigy, but unlike Omi, Jack was a runaway. He'd left his parent's mansion two years ago and had been roaming the world ever since. His family had come close to locating him once in the first year, when Jack ended up in a hospital long enough to leave a name and blood work. It was how he'd come to Young's attention, too.

Omi wasn't too impressed by what he saw. Jack's naturally white hair was dyed bright red, and there were weird tattoos curving under Spicer's eyes, one of which dipped in a tiny spike.

"He looks like a clown child," Omi muttered. He slipped his arms under Jack's armpits and pulled Jack upright until they were both on their feet. Omi stumbled about until he regained his balance while still holding the deadweight of another person. He then hefted Spicer over his shoulders and carried the body across the street.

Chase was already in the van when Omi reached it, so Omi had to prop Spicer against one of the double doors and pry the other one open by himself. Once the door swung free, Omi carefully maneuvered the albino into the back of the van and climbed in after him. As soon as Omi slammed the door shut, the van took off for the labs.

Omi stuffed Jack into a black bag and quickly yanked the zipper up. He accidentally looked at the teenager's face. There was drool leaking from Jack's mouth. Spicer's eyelids had lifted. The red irises saw nothing of the zipper as it synched the material over his face.

* * *

_Late January_

When Jack awoke his stomach felt uncomfortably full and there was the horrifying realization that something was in his throat. His eyes opened wide. The light slapped them. He shut them again and screamed, but the thing in his throat seemed to swell up and hurt so much that Jack was forced to stop.

His arms and legs were gone. He couldn't feel them at all.

There was a high pitched noise that he became aware of. It sounded like an alarm. Jack's heart was beating slow, hard thumps in his chest. He found it hard to breathe and began to gasp. Again he tried to open his eyes, but only a crack, and then only a little more. He saw a bald teenager leaning over him, arms flying in quick movements. The kid was wearing a doctor's coat. They had to be about the same age.

_I'm in a hospital again!_ Jack thought. His relief was ruined by his next thought: _Why am I here? What's wrong? What—_

Heaviness swept over him and Jack forgot everything. He went to sleep again.

* * *

_  
Mid-February_

The wall had an infinite number of flaws in each of its forty-one stone bricks. There were chips in the grey paint, small chinks in the rock itself, and there were hundreds of indentions, cracks, fractures, and sponge holes. Jack knew them all. He'd stared at this wall for his entire life, he was sure. What he was not sure of was how he even knew that the wall was a wall, or what a fissure was, and why it seemed like there should be something on the other side of the wall.

Jack stared without blinking sometimes and his eyes would sting. He liked the feeling because it was something unique.

* * *

_  
Late April_

Once, he dreamed that the wall was gone. In this dream Jack found himself in a very red room full of statues. The statues came in all sizes and shapes. They depicted men, women, and children, all wearing white hospital gowns. Some stood and stared at the ceiling, with their shoulders thrown back and their feet spread and hands clenched, but they never moved. Many others were lying on the ground. These stared at their own fists, which were tucked close to their empty faces. Others stood or sat and stared off to the side as if they were robots that were in sleep mode.

_Robots. I know how to make those,_ Jack thought. He noticed that none of the people were actually looking at each other. He wondered if they even knew that other people were all around them. I should tell them.

The world flooded with white. It spun as Jack felt hands grasp him by the ears and tilt his head down so that he was staring at a pair of pink heels. He smelled something soft and feminine as she walked away, her feet clicking on the shiny floor.

He couldn't bring his head back up. He stared at the floor and felt his teeth began to grind. There was a fear in him that he would forget the people in the room.

* * *

_  
End of March_

"Clay, will you hurry up? I'm supposed to meet up with Rai in ten minutes for dinner," Kimiko, another lab assistant, explained. Her hands gripped the stainless steel cart she was seated on. She looked at her sparkly nails and sighed.

"Why the hurry?"

"Well, we have a date assuming Dr. Evil doesn't need Rai to help him take the van for a spin. I don't see why Dr. Young doesn't just drive himself." Kimiko tapped her nails against the steel and watched the Texan grad student's eyes as he worked. They were focused. Clay wasn't really listening to her at all!

Clay pulled back the skin on 32B's face, pinning it down on either side of her skull. He examined the muscles beneath and compared them to a set of photographs that were held up by magnets to a nearby whiteboard.

"32B shows no degeneration at all. She hasn't aged," Clay said aloud as he recorded his observations on a clipboard. "Too bad her brain rotted, huh?"

Kimiko shuddered. "Yeah, it's creepy when that happens." She sighed dramatically again and avoided looking at 32B's remains. Yesterday the auburn-haired girl had looked spectacular, if not doped up. They'd all hoped she'd be their first success story.

Kimiko had forgotten the girl's real name. She thought it was a little cruel to call their subjects faceless names like "32B," so Kimiko gave them her own private nicknames. She'd dubbed this girl Strawberry.

Whenever Kimiko went on vacation she avoided looking at the gold numbers and letters fixed to the condo doors.

Clay pried open the girl's mouth and reach up into her skull. Her jaw popped free from the pressure of his arm pushing down on it. He prodded for quite a while, moving and searching around for a feel of her brain.

"Bingo!" He withdrew his fingers immediately. They were covered in a sticky substance that wasn't blood. "Yup. Nothing but spaghetti left up there."

Kimiko's stomach flipped. "Thanks, Clay, so much for eating Italian tonight." Her blue eyes flicked to the clock on the wall. Six minutes. "Do you really even need me here? You've done this like thirty times already without me doing anything important."

"Just a few more minutes," Clay promised, reaching for a small handsaw. "We gotta take her cap off and take some pictures. I'll pop her lid if you'll get the camera."

"Fine," Kimiko groaned, slipping off the stainless steel cart she'd been perching on. Her heels clacked as she traversed the fairly big room. Her eyes wept over the cabinets and counters, along with the other four experiments laid out on their stretchers. There was a hook embedded in the wall by the door, but Kimiko only spared it a glance. Of course the camera wasn't hanging there. Why couldn't Clay ever put anything back where it belonged? How could such a big camera be so hard to find?

She searched the area around where Experiment 14D lay breathing and staring vacantly at the ceiling. 14D was an old man (whom Kimiko secretly called Wrinkles), but he showed promise. His body had retained a physical age of sixty-two for the past fourteen years. Unfortunately, his brain, like 32B's and countless others, was apparently turning to mush.

Kimiko grew frustrated. Maybe the camera had fallen off one of the counters. She searched beneath 14D's stretcher. Nothing! Then a bright flash of light scared the bones out of her. Kimiko scrambled up from the floor and stumbled against 14D. The old man made no protest. Breathing hard, the young assistant turned to see Clay looking at her in bewilderment.

"You all right?" he asked, hands covered in gore. There were even flecks of it in his blond hair. Kimiko imagined that he was a butcher standing over his product, not an assistant of Chase Young poised to saw off the top portion of some cadaver's head.

"I think I saw a camera flash from that side of the room," Kimiko said.

"You're probably just jumpy," Clay dismissed. He placed the saw on 32B's forehead and angled it to a slant. With hands gripping both ends of the saw's rubber enclosed handles, Clay pushed down hard and began dragging the tool back and forth.

Kimiko did her best to block out the grisly noise. She was glaring at Clay's back now. He always treated her like she was just another feckless female he needed to open doors for. Well! She would show him.

Kimiko marched over to where she was sure the flash had originated. Sure enough, the camera was there, lying discarded on its side on the floor. Kimiko placed one hand on 16A's stretcher to support herself and she squatted down to grab the camera's black strap. As she stood again white fingers snaked around her wrist. Kimiko froze. She looked down at 16A's pale hand. Horror slithered through her chest as she brought her head up to meet the gaze of his red eyes. He was staring right at her, and it made her too terrified to move or speak. This had never happened before. His eyes were dark red. There was no insinuation of anything nice lurking in them either. The sheer alertness in them startled her. 16A looked like an angry ghost. His now mostly white hair had grown past his shoulders, ending in long red strands.

"C-Clay," Kimiko whispered. How long had this thing been staring at them from across the room? When had it sat up and twisted around to glower so hatefully at her? Most importantly, how long had 16A been able to move so much and so quickly on his own? For all they knew it was getting up and walking around the room after hours….

Strong hands rested on her shoulders. "Don't worry, Kimi, I won't let him hurt you."

Kimiko couldn't break eye contact with 16A. She felt Clay's rough fingers gently pry the ghost's hand away from her. The moment she was free Kimiko began backing away from the stretcher. She bumped into 14D again.

"Careful now," Clay warned. He set 16A's hand down and watched with his peripheral vision as the hand curled into a fist. _Well ain't that interesting?_

Kimiko used both hands to keep her anchored to the room as she made her way backwards towards the exit. She skimmed them across the counters and carts, afraid to let go. Her eyes stayed on the boy who was still trying to incinerate her with his glare. Her hand touched something wet and Kimiko glanced to see what it was and found her fingers touching a bloody mass of auburn hair. She gasped and fled the room, not looking back at Clay, 16A, or the saw still lodged in 32B's skull.

Clay stared at the door and pondered chasing after her, but decided it was best to stay and finish what they'd started. He looked at 16A, whom he knew was really named Jack. Clay never forgot their names.

"Well, partner," the grad student said as he pushed Jack back down onto the stretcher, "you certainly have a way with the ladies."

* * *

_April Fools Day_

"She's not coming back," Raimundo said, leaning against the black van. Its tinted window felt cool against his back despite the hoodie he wore.

"Guess I'm not surprised." Clay pulled another sack from the cart and tossed it into the back of the van. The weighted sack landed with a whump!

Rai finished his cigarette and flicked it to the ground, where he smushed it beneath the toe of his boot. "You sure you don't want me to help with those?"

"Nah," Clay picked up a small one. It was so tiny he could cradle it in his arms. The black bag weighed nothing.

"There's not many more. Why don't you hop on in and get her cranked? I'll be done in a sec," Clay assured. "We need to get these things dumped quick so you can go find Kimiko."

The blond grad student gently placed the small bag on top of the others in the back of Dr. Young's van. Six bags later he was finished, slammed the doors shut, and joined his buddy in the front for a trip.  
_  
There are about to be a few more people swimming in Atlantis, _Clay thought.

* * *

_  
Late April_

Jack was somewhere new. He'd been there for quite a while and he was all alone. He knew this because Jack had learned to turn his head both left and right, and sometime even down. If he needed to, he could even twist his torso from side to side, but the effort was hard work. Jack hated anything that was hard work.

The walls here were solid white. They were perfect. There was nothing in the room except for the stretcher that he was currently sitting on. His legs hung over the side and his hands gripped the edges. He could feel the white fabric of the hospital gown he wore against his skin. It itched. His gaze was on the floor. It seemed miles away; an impossible drop.

Sometimes Jack dreamed that one of the walls became transparent, and that there were people on the other side watching him.

He also dreamed once that the bald kid was in his new room. The boy put a camera in Jack's hands and stood back expectantly. Jack stared at the boy and ignored the camera, until finally the camera was snatched away and the boy left.

There was also another dream. Jack was lying on his back, staring up at a man with golden eyes and cascades of thick black hair. The man was seated on the side of the stretcher, making notes on a clipboard. He wore a white lab coat and a pin that said YOUNG in green letters. Young was scribbling away as Jack sized him up. Then, as if he sensed a pair of eyes scanning him, Young stilled his pen and met Jack's gaze.

"See something you like, Spicer?" Young asked, smirking. The clipboard was set aside, along with the pen, and the man shifted much closer. His hands were on either side of Jack's head. His breath was sliding around Jack's face and long tendrils of his hair snaked down to drape across Jack's chest. This close, Jack realized the man was wearing colored contacts. They made the already perfect face look even more exotic, almost feral.

Young looked deep into Jack's eyes for an answer, but Jack couldn't fathom what the man expected to see. His own eyes had widened in response to Young's proximity. This man made his skin crawl with warnings, but oddly enough, Jack felt regret when the sensation of Young's hair disappeared from his chest, and the face and the strange eyes peeled away as well.

It had been a while since Jack had that dream. He stared at the floor and wondered if it had really happened, and why the man had called him Spicer instead of 16A.

* * *

_Early May_

Omi spotted her sitting on a stone bench. The weeping willow hung over her like a shroud. White flowers had blown off a nearby tree and become entangled in the willow's long tentacles. Kimiko was reading a magazine. Beside her feet rested a large purse stuffed with many more.

She looked so different without her lab coat. Omi figured he did, too. He sat beside her. "Hello, Kimiko. How have Raimundo and you been doing?"

Kimiko dog-eared the page she was on and set the magazine to her other side. The pages fluttered softly in the breeze.

"Hi, Omi. We've been great," she said a little nervously, as if just seeing someone from the labs made her feel like she was back in that room with 16A staring her down.

Omi looked at her. She was so pretty. Her eyes were blue as glowing sapphires and her hair looked like black silk. Omi had always wanted to reach out and tuck it behind her ear. He glanced down at his hands, which were folded on his lap.

"I'm glad that Raimundo chose to quit after you did. It's good that you're still together," Omi said.

"Me, too," she quietly agreed. "I don't think I could have dealt with him working there… not after…"

Omi found her eyes again. What had shaken her so much? She had walked away from the opportunity of a lifetime, not to mention a pile of stipends. "Kimiko, I know that what happened that day scared you badly, but—"

"You think I left because I was scared of 16A?" she cut him off, her gaze alive.

"Well, yes. He moved and—"

Kimiko was shaking her head. "Omi, it wasn't just because 16A moved. It was…" she looked up at the willow's long strands and the little flowers stuck in them. Her voice was very soft. "It was all the anger in his eyes. He was aware, Omi! They're probably all aware of everything that's done to them."

She shuddered.

Omi thought carefully for several minutes, letting her calm down. The silence was a comfortable one. Kimiko sighed.

"Kimiko," Omi began, "they don't feel anything. There's no pain at all. What would 16A have to be angry about?" He stood up and adjusted his clothes. The sun would set soon and Omi needed to be home before too many shadows stretched across the park.

She was silent. She had shut down; obviously convinced that Omi was incapable of understanding her fears.

"Anyways," now it was Omi's turn to feel nervous, "I just wanted to check on you guys. I'll be going now…"

He was almost eight feet away when she called his name. Omi paused and turned back to face her. His heart beat faster. She looked like she belonged under that tree. Both of them belonged in a painting on the side of a beautiful vase.

"Yes…?" Omi waited.

Her blue eyes searched him. "Omi, do you think… do you think they know that we're killing them? That we've stolen their lives away? Do you think that," she breathed sharply, "that we have ever accidentally sent a live one to Atlantis?"

Atlantis, of course, was Clay's pet name for the place where the bodies were sunk.

"What do you think they were thinking when the bag fell and the water came in?" she asked; her voice tight with terror. It was clear that she was imagining the horrific scenario happening to herself.  
_  
She's a cracked egg!_ was all Omi thought. He found kinder words to say. "Kimiko, they feel nothing. Remember? Clay takes their brains out for further study before we—"

She held up both hands. "You're right." She would hear no more.

Omi didn't know what to say to make her feel better. He finally settled for telling her that he was sorry for how things turned out, and that he hoped she would find happiness again. He left her under the willow tree. He would never see Kimiko again, but Omi would always remember how she looked sitting there, staring at her hands like one of their subjects.

* * *

_Late May_

Omi was about to open the door to one of the special observation rooms when he realized his left sneaker was untied. He glanced in the rectangular window and saw 16A sitting on the edge of the stretcher, which had become the subject's habit. Rather than slide the lock back into place, Omi left it and knelt down to fix his shoe. When he stood again and looked through the rectangular window, a small part of him was relieved to see 16A still sitting on the stretcher; a living statue, just as he should be.

Omi pushed the door open and kicked the built in prop down to keep the door ajar. He then pulled a small cart into the room. The cart was covered in small silvery tools, syringes, needles, and little plastic green bottles that were each filled with pills or powders. On the cart's second level was a stack of clean cloth, a box of gloves, a box full of bags labeled MEDICAL WASTE, and another box with a combination on it. Inside the box was a gun, for emergencies. The gun had never been used.

Omi picked up one of the already filled syringes and approached 16A. His heart thrummed nervously. It irritated him that he was afraid of this one, but really it was all Kimiko's fault. She'd planted the seed of unease in Omi's mind.

He froze. Had 16A's fingers tightened their grip on the stretcher, or was it just Omi's imagination playing tricks on him? The white-haired teenager was staring at the floor. This made it much easier for Omi to regain his wits.  
_  
Kimiko saw rage in your eyes, but you are just an empty cicada husk, 16A, _Omi assured himself.

"Something the matter?" a dry voice accused from behind.

Omi squeaked and fumbled the syringe, juggling it in his fingers before finally dropping it. He whirled around to face Chase Young. "I—um—that is—!"

Chase regarded the bald assistant with no hidden amusement. He crossed his arms and cocked his head, taking into account how shaken Omi seemed. "Are you _scared_ of him?"

"What! Me, scared? Of that?" Omi pointed back towards the subject, and nearly made a mess of himself when his hand thunked against a very pale, very solid body. 16A was standing right behind him! Omi yelped and spiraled into the cart, knocking it over in his wake. Supplies scattered everywhere. He practically jumped behind Dr. Young. His powers of speech dissolved into gibberish as he clung to Young's lab coat.

Chase laughed. "It seems you have a good reason to be." He had watched Jack Spicer slowly descend from the stretcher, like a graceful spider, and come to a stand behind Omi moments before. Now the albino subject remained right where he had stopped, as if Omi's presence had created an obstacle that Jack didn't know how to overcome. The red eyes were focused on the floor, where they had been fixed the entire time.

16A's head tilted to the side at the sound of Chase's voice. The movement did not go unnoticed by Young.

"Clean this up, Omi," Chase ordered. He ripped his lab coat free of Omi's clutch. They had standards after all. Chase then deftly avoided stepping on any of the needles, tools, and other supplies as he crossed the distance to where 16A remained standing. Jack was a statue wearing a hospital gown.

He placed one palm behind Spicer's head and with his other hand, he grasped the soft, white face under the chin and lifted it. Jack's pupils dilated when his eyes met Young's. It was undeniable evidence of recognition.

Omi was still on the floor, watching them in disbelief. Kimiko's fears wrapped him in a blanket so tight he thought he'd suffocate.

"I wonder how far I'll have to go to see how aware you really are," Chase murmured. He let go of Jack's face and took one of the pale arms into his grasp. He squeezed it. Jack made no effort to stop him. The youth was a breathing mannequin.

"If I broke this, would you scream? Would you even feel it?" Chase mused. He used the arm to drag Jack back to the stretcher. He grabbed Jack by the hips and sat him back on the stainless steel. The subject slumped over immediately, and even brought his own legs up from where they dangled, until he was curled on his side. His red gaze seemed to rest on Omi and pin the assistant to the floor.

"I'm moving him," Young explained as he pushed the stretcher through the mess coating the floor and past his assistant. "I think I need to keep a closer eye on this one."

When they were gone Omi began to move. He crawled over to the cart and stood it upright. He gathered the cloth into a pile to fold after he'd picked up all of the shiny tools and needles. He replaced every object on the cart, and counted them to make sure none had gone missing. There was only one thing. Omi scanned the room for it. The box with the gun waited for him by the sterile white walls.

Omi dropped to his knees before the box. He envisioned himself and the box to be elsewhere, under a willow tree perhaps.  
_  
He was aware, Omi! They're probably all aware of everything that's done to them!_

Omi used his index finger to thumb the numbers into the right sequence. The box's lock released, and he opened the lid. The gun was there, just like it was supposed to be. It was solid black and loaded.  
_  
Omi, do you think… do you think they know that we're killing them? That we've stolen their lives away?_

Omi picked up the gun and pressed it to his temple.  
_  
What do you think they were thinking when we—_

* * *

_Mid-June_

"He's the one," Chase told his phone, or rather, the university's president. "His cells are regenerating flawlessly. He's the first immortal. Yes, his cognitive skills haven't degenerated, and I believe once he is weaned off the suppressants his memories may resurface."

There was a pause as Young listened to the president's response.

"There is no reason. I could take him off them at any time. However…" Chase looked at the teenager sitting on his couch, building a house of cards on the coffee table. Jack's movements were stilted yet precise. They seemed to take pure concentration to execute.

"However," Chase continued, clearing his throat, "the withdrawal pains alone might send him into shock. I'll have to be careful. This is no time to rush. It would be a pity to lose the specimen now, after we have worked so hard."

The white hand faltered and the house of cards tumbled down.

"Actually, I have a solution for that. I'm willing to scrap up to ninety percent of our current subjects. There are a few who show the beginnings of as much promise as Jack, so it would be foolish to let them go, but—" He was interrupted. "Jack is 16A's original name. Anyway, this move will cut our costs of operation immediately. I'll also require only two or three assistants," Chase said. "I want to keep Bailey. He's been with me since the beginning. It doesn't matter who the other two are."

Twenty minutes later Chase was finally able to get off the phone. It was a pain to explain his courses of action to another person, but it was good to have all his future plans hammered down and approved. He poured himself a drink and went to lounge beside Jack, who was staring at the cards. Chase flipped on the enormous widescreen that spanned the wall before them. He sipped on his drink and did not flinch when Jack abruptly leaned back into the couch and crossed one leg over a knee.

Red eyes gazed at Chase as if to say: _Ha! What do you think of that?_

Chase smirked and downed his glass. "Sorry, Spicer, you can't have any yet."

* * *

_  
Late June  
_  
The Brazilian lit a cigarette as he crossed the damp bridge. "Hey, Clay, long time no see."

"Who's this guy?" a teenager, who was helping Clay lift a body bag over the bridge's railing, asked. Raimundo failed to recognize this person who surely had to be Dr. Young's new driver.

"Well, hey there, partner! Just gimme a sec," Clay said warmly. He pushed the weighted bag over the rotten wood and paid no attention to the water sucking the black plastic away. "Don't worry, Jermaine. This here is the fellow you replaced. Thanks to him you have the best job in the world."

Jermaine rolled his eyes. "Yeah. I'm really seeing the world doing this. I'm gonna go get another mermaid while you chit-chat with your old pal." Jermaine broke away from them and sauntered back towards the van.

Raimundo waited until his replacement was off the bridge and digging in the van before he looked at Clay and said, "Mermaid? Man, what's he talking about?"

Clay laughed. "I guess I never told you. I've always imagined that this river takes them straight to Atlantis. You know, that it's down there in the ocean somewhere with lots of mermaids swimmin' around."

Rai leaned on the railing and let the familiar creak of its wood keep him anchored to reality. He watched the fast, dark water flow. The river was deep and overshadowed by the surrounding forest. Raimundo wasn't sure where it dragged the bags, but it must be somewhere deep and secret. They'd never had one show up on the six o'clock news before, at least.

"Clay," Raimundo said, keeping Jermaine's proximity in mind. The new driver was struggling with the burden of two bags. He was trying to drag them.

The Texan looked down at the water and tried to figure out if Raimundo saw something in it. "Yeah?"

"Is there a mermaid named Omi in Atlantis?"

The Texan, who was easily twice Raimundo's size, turned to face him. "Nah, Rai. Omi got homesick and went back to China. Didn't Kimi tell you? I called and told her myself."

Raimundo looked for Omi in the water and was sure he saw him there. "I think he had the right idea—getting out of the country, I mean. It sounds like Dr. Young's getting close to finding his answer."

Jermaine was closing in on them.

"Where'd you hear a thing like that?" Clay asked, looking Rai in the eye.

"Oh, I just figure—"

"He'd have a Nobel Prize if he'd cracked the immortality code, don't you think? You guys moving to Brazil or Japan? Hey, make sure you give me a call when you finally plant a ring on her," Clay said laughing. He grabbed one of the bags from Jermaine and tossed it like a feather over the rail. "Make sure you keep in touch. We'd hate to lose track of you two."

Raimundo laughed without a hint of the nervousness he felt. "Hey, no worries. We'll even send postcards every month." The Brazilian turned on his heel and forced himself to walk calmly away from Clay, Jermaine, and the sound of the other body bag hitting the water.

Kimiko was right. It was time to disappear forever.

* * *

_  
Late July_

Dashi strolled into the eight-room, two-and-a-half bath condo as if he owned the place. He scanned the open floor plan of Chase Young's living room with an approving eye. The enormous sectional looked comfortable enough to sleep on. The giant flatscreen TV wasn't too bad either.

Behind him, Guan was closing the door. "Chase! I used the passkey and let ourselves in," Guan called out. He looked around. All of the lights were on. There was a pot on the stove with a bag of tea set to steep in it. On the coffee table, as usual, there was a house of cards.

Guan looked at the university's president and shrugged. "Maybe they're in Jack's room. I'm getting some tea. Would you like some, sir?" It was never a bad idea to offer your boss a drink, after all.

"Yes, please. No sugar," Dashi said. He walked over to the sectional, picked up the universal remote, and found his preferred national news channel. He watched the rolling marquee at the bottom of the screen and found that his stocks were up. Dashi smiled.

Guan snagged four cups from their hooks over the sink and prepared four cups of tea. He had a maid do all of this demure stuff for him at home, so it was kind of fun to play the part when he was visiting his colleague, Chase. In fact, Guan was beginning to think that he made better tea than his maid.

Might as well fire the old hag, he thought with a smirk.

As Guan was setting the cups of tea on a tray and moving them to the breakfast nook's table, Chase Young finally made his appearance. 16A followed.

Chase spared a nod for Guan, whom he was quite used to the sight of, and moved to shake the president's hand. "It's been awhile since we've been able to meet face to face."

Dashi returned the greeting with empty words of his own. He was obviously distracted by 16A. "Is that him? What's wrong with his skin? Some sort of side effect, perhaps?" The corner of Dashi's mouth dipped. "His eyes—!"

Chase lifted a calming set of hands. "Relax, sir. The subject is an albino. His lack of pigmentation has nothing to do with the treatment."

Dashi laughed, "Well that's a relief! What's the point of living forever if you've got to walk around looking like a goddamned ghost?" he laughed again.

Guan looked from the president to 16A. Those white hands were trembling, and then forming fists. He watched the albino (who was wearing dark jeans and an equally black hoodie) take a menacing step forward.

Without turning, Young swept out a hand, commanding 16A to be still. "Yes," Chase continued the small talk, "I couldn't agree with you more. Won't you have a seat? I see Guan has found the tea I prepared for us. I think the best way for you to see how far we've come in this endeavor is to observe 16A for yourself. That's why I invited you here."

"Love to." Dashi showed himself to the small table and took up the tea cup that looked the most promising. He was joined by his two most valuable graduate researchers, and then, to his surprise, 16A pulled back a chair and glided into it.

The white haired boy did not take a cup. He rested his elbows on the table, his chin in the palms of his hands, and gave the president the most unnerving, penetrating stare with those red eyes that Dashi had ever been accosted by. 16A said not a word, but a message was clear in those red irises. Hi, there. I'd love to be alone in a room with you and a crowbar for ten minutes.

Dashi sipped his tea. "It's not dangerous, is it?"

Chase smirked. "Of course not; Jack cannot even yet feed himself. He knows that without us he'd starve to death. Or if you needed to dispose of him quicker, you could throw him in a swimming pool."

"How do you know it can't swim?" Dashi asked, and when Chase gave him a flat look, said, "Oh. You're definitely a man of science, Young. What makes it... him different from the others? Why is he ageless in both mind and body while so many other subjects have failed?"

"It's difficult to explain in layman's terms – no offense," Chase offered, drinking his own tea. "It begins with having a certain genetic makeup favorable to the treatment. Jack responded almost perfectly, while most have died along the way. Through him and other more or less successes, I've been developing a sort of … Fountain of Youth program."

Dashi set his empty cup down and leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms and staring hard at 16A like a man would examine a car's paint job for flaws. "Are the other five like him?"

There was a small, bitter smile on Chase's mouth. "Four of them are finally showing the early signs of degeneration, but I admit that I'm not the least bit surprised. I expected them to die so I've been using them for more rigorous tests. They'll likely be dead within the month."

The university's president seemed not to mind. Dashi even seemed a little relieved. Less subjects meant that this project, and all the secrecy and danger involved with it, was perhaps finally winding down.

"So besides 16A, there is one other? Is he here?" Dashi asked.

"She is kept at another location," Young replied, collecting all of the cups but Jack's, which still sat full. "1D is fully aware and communicates verbally. She has fully recovered both physically and mentally." Chase rinsed the cups and left them in the sink. He stood at the bar.

Dashi was pure excitement. "Fully recovered? She communicates, you say?" He pointed at 16A without bothering to look at the pallid specimen. "Why aren't you wasting my time with this thing when you could be introducing me to her—to our perfect immortal?"

Guan laughed.

"You can meet her if you'd like, sir," Chase said, "but I neglected to show you to her because I fully plan on destroying her when she is no longer required."

"She's not exactly a ray of sunshine," Guan added. "All she talks about is how she's going to kill us all and use our research to form her own army of immortal animals."

"Kittens, specifically," Chase sighed and rolled his eyes. He wished he were making it up. "Once I've dissected her—"

"Why not kill this one and dissect him?" Dashi asked, and jumped when hot tea was sent sliding across the table and into his lap. The university's president tumbled out of his seat as if he were on fire. "It attacked me!" he accused as Guan passed him some paper towels.

16A languidly returned to his former position; his head resting on his palms, watching them. However, his white face had smoothed out into an expression of the purest contentment.

"It's really my fault, sir. I was moving to get up and bumped the table leg hard with my clumsy foot," Guan said.

"Well…" Dashi took a moment to summon back his dignity. "It's all right. You never know what you'll do when you drink too much of this herbal junk," he laughed, casting a wary glance at 16A, who winked at him. Startled, Dashi located the door and headed for it.

"Sorry I can't bother you longer, Chase. As always, you have our continued support in this amazing endeavor. Perhaps someday, a thousand years from now, we'll look back on today and laugh at how careful we had to be, yes?"

Chase and Guan saw the man to the elevator and returned to the room. When they returned to the condo, Guan opened the door and nearly ran over 16A, who was right on the other side of the door.

"Whoa!" Guan stopped himself from stumbling back into Chase. Instead he placed his hands gently on 16A's shoulders and guided the experiment out of their way. Once everyone was inside, he let go.

Guan regarded the teenager, who was looking fairly sullen. "Where do you think you were going, huh?"

Chase was wiping tea off of his breakfast nook's small table. "I think," the grad student tossed the damp paper towels away, "that he doesn't like to be left alone."

Guan found his usual spot on the sectional (he liked to claim the left corner) and flicked on the TV. It was How It's Made night on the History Channel. Like clockwork, 16A was walking over and sitting near him in seconds. They'd used the TV to figure out bits and pieces of 16A's personality. You could tell a lot about a person based on their shows, Guan figured.

* * *

_  
Late August_

Clay told the other two assistants that he was leaving for the day and made them promise to lock up. He passed through the plastic sheets, the bullet proof glass door, and the door that even a tank couldn't break through. Once Clay was through all of these doors, he went to the observation deck that overlooked the lab that he'd left his fellow assistants and experiment 1D in.

Clay looked down at the sterile room. He watched the two dark-haired assistants as they calmly worked. They were making final notes for the day. In the center of the room, experiment 1D was unconscious on her stretcher. They kept her sedated almost around the clock, and when she was aware, they made sure to keep a straightjacket on her. 1D was a violent mess.

She was angry at them. Angry beyond communication, but she tried. She threw things, made threats, and drew pictures of mutant animals disemboweling the lab assistants. 1D drew pictures of herself delivering grotesque deaths to Chase Young. She seemed especially keen on taking his eyes out with surgical scissors.

It was too bad, really. 1D was pretty little gal named Ashley. She had blue eyes and blond hair, and would look mighty fine in a cowgirl hat – or at least, Clay thought so. He pulled out the sheet full of codes that Dr. Young had given him and began keying in the first sequence.

The doors below locked as sheets of five-inch thick metal slammed down on either side of them, sealing the lab. Clay ignored the lab assistants, who were screaming up at him. Apparently they'd noticed Clay's presence in the observation deck. Next, the room began to flood.

Clay keyed in the next sequence. Roof panels opened over the lab and long electric cables unfurled like snakes. They crept down towards the water. The screams grew angrier, more desperate. The lab assistants were already knee deep in the water and knew exactly how they were about to die.

Finally, Clay hit a final sequence, and this one made the windows on the observation deck close and a countdown begin. It was time for Clay to leave. If he stayed much longer, he could get fried along with the rest of the system. He casually slid his chair under the table like he had a thousand times and made for the door.

It was locked.

* * *

_  
Late September_

Dashi had worked his entire life to become someone in a seat of power. Ever since grade school, he had always been a class president as well as the leader of many student clubs. In college, the story was no different. He'd graduated early with honors and plans to someday be running the show at his alma mater.

As he sat in his plush office chair behind the enormous cherry wood desk he'd picked out three years earlier, Dashi reflected back on the events of his life. He had never dated seriously, or even thought about building a family. He figured that once he had accrued enough money and social status as the university's president that there would plenty of young, fit women around for him to choose from.

He was not incorrect. However, he found it impossible to court any of them with immortality in his own future. He didn't want to form a serious relationship with a woman only for her to grow old while he remained in the prime of his life. No, Dashi wanted only the perfect woman to share his immortal life with, so he waited for Chase Young to finish the Fountain of Youth. After only two intense years, the miracle of life sat in a box before him.

It was wrapped like a present with dark green paper covered in little velvet dragons. A delicate golden ribbon tied the package together. Dashi tugged the lace and reverently peeled open the reward for all of his trust and money. He'd sacrificed so much for this—and so many lives, too. Sure, the majority of them were not innocent lives, but did that make the quest for immortality any less unforgiveable in God's eyes? Killing the vilest parts of society in the name of science seemed to count for little in the end. There had been children involved…

Dashi refused to think about it. He smoothed back the remaining paper that concealed his present. This revealed a black box that flipped open as if it were meant to deliver an engagement ring. Within this box was a velvet cushion that held a glass container shaped like an elongated crystal. The elixir was beautiful; just like something from a storybook. It cast rainbows across his desk and seemed to glow blue in the lamplight.

There were simple instructions printed inside the lid of the box. The words flowed across the silk lining in a flawless silver script.  
_  
Drink this immediately and disappear._

Dashi contemplated having the formula tested by other sources. What if Young had sent him poison? And what did he mean by "disappear?" Did Young honestly expect for Dashi to give up his life and disappear into obscurity?

Dashi pocketed the elixir. He would have it checked.

* * *

_Early October_

They were both standing and watching him.

Guan saw the gift waiting on the coffee table. The playing cards were stacked neatly beside it and tied together with the same lacy gold ribbon. He sat on the sectional and looked at Chase for answers.

"Are you sure? If I were you I wouldn't want too many immortals running around out there," Guan joked.

"Aside from Jack and I, there should only be one," Chase replied. "All other loose ends have been dealt with."

"Is that so…" Guan regarded the box and the playing cards. The latter was obviously a gift from Jack. "Thank you," he told the younger man.

Jack waved it off.

"Still not talking, huh?" Guan grinned and picked up the worn deck, which had been used to build a thousand houses. He slipped it into his coat pocket and stood up. "I think I have all I want already, Chase. The idea of living forever freaks me out, personally. Plus I have family. Heck, I'll even get grandkids in a few years at the rate things are going."

Chase smiled. "I expected as much. I'm sorry that we'll be seeing each other much less often from here on out. Are you positive that you don't want this? Someday, when you're old and your grandchildren forget to visit you, you may regret it."

Guan laughed. "Well then, perhaps a pair of immortal devils will show up and entertain me with stories of their lives."

"If you insist." Chase shook Guan's hand. "However, I should tell you that I have always known that you would not want eternal youth. I am about to disappear, and I have a lot of things to leave behind. You'll find the beginnings to them in this box." He picked it up with his free hand and pressed the box into Guan's hands.

* * *

_  
Late November_

The body of a university president was found. There was a smoking hole in his head, and a memo on his secretary's desk from Vice Labs, concerning their interest in his proclaimed Longevity Formula.

Unfortunately for the president, who had hoped to further manufacture his newfound miracle, eternal youth did not equate with invincibility.

* * *

_Early December_

Jack walked past the rows of parked cars with his arms crossed to keep his gloved hands warm. He was wearing plenty of dark layers, plus a Toboggan Hat and earmuffs, yet still the cold seeped into his bones. It was snowing outside of the airport and they were probably going to ground all flights anyway. Since there was probably plenty of time, he walked and thought.

Jack fully recalled running away from his wealthy home and touring the world. He had worked here and there, fixing things, to support himself along the way. He also remembered the night when two people had slipped out of his bedroom closet, dragged him out of bed, and shot him up to a happy place with sedatives. Apparently they had been paid off by the lab to do it and had taken Jack's clothes, which in retrospect he knew were ridiculously high dollar.

He paused at a crosswalk in the underground lot. A taxi zoomed past. He'd survived the experiment. Now what? Chase planned to take him to China, but then what would happen? It was this unknown that had caused Jack to sneak away from Chase at the first given opportunity. It wasn't too hard to get away from him in the airport's underground parking lot. Sure the place was busy and full of noise and people, but it had almost been too easy…

Jack walked and thought. The odds of his parents eventually locating him were uncomfortably high. They had the resources to keep looking until they were both in wheelchairs. Chase seemed to be good at keeping things and people secret.

Jack leaned on a stone railing and looked out at the falling snow. He was on deck four now, which was actually street level. He watched a variety of boots walk past him. It'd be easy to disappear into the flow of humanity again. He'd just follow them wherever they went, like he used to do.

* * *

_  
Mid December_

It was never cold on these beaches, even at sunset. Kimiko lounged in her pink chair and watched the brilliant colors drip down the sky like a water painting. Raimundo sat beside her in the sand, his ankles crossed as he leaned back on his elbows.

The box sat in the sand as well. It had come in a package covered in many postage stamps. The box had hunted them down.

"Don't open it, Rai. Let's just bury it," Kimiko urged. She moved from her chair to the sand. The ocean was very calm and the stars were just appearing.

Raimundo sat up and took the box in both of his hands. "It's the Fountain of Youth, I bet," he said.

Kimiko held out her hands and felt relieved when he turned over the box. She opened it. There was a single vial inside. She ignored the directions and held the crystal up before her eyes. "It's so beautiful," she said.

Rai picked up the box and read the words scripted in silver inside. "It's not immortality, Kimiko."

She clutched the glass. "What? Then what is it?"

"It's a long time to feel guilty about all the terrible things we helped him do. You're right, we should get rid of it, but burying it isn't enough. Pour it out," Raimundo said, dropping the box as he stood up and dusted the sand from his shorts.

"He sent enough for both of us?"

"Looks that way."

Kimiko took the stopper off the vial. She also stood up. "I bet he's got someone watching us right now, so that he'll know what we decided."

Rai nodded. He took her hand, and they poured the liquid out. It splattered across the dry sand and, from then on, was no more important than spilt water. A huge weight lifted off their shoulders. Kimiko laughed and started walking away. She knew Raimundo would get her chair.

"It was probably poison, anyway," she called back to him, smiling.

* * *

_  
Late December_

Chase Young's return to China was quiet and shadowy, just as he had always planned it to be. A limo greeted him at the airport and he slid in. Chase reached out a gloved hand to help his clumsy new companion into the sleek vehicle.

Jack didn't seem impressed with the limo one bit. Of course, the younger man had been riding around in them for his entire life, so that wasn't too big of a surprise. However, Chase had the feeling that Jack was going to be awestruck when he saw the renovated castle Chase had purchased for them to begin their immortal lives in.

* * *

**The end**


End file.
